


Killing Until the Score is Paid

by Bidawee



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Attempted Murder, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Past Murders, Poisoning, Prince Auston, Prince Mitch, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bidawee/pseuds/Bidawee
Summary: He learns to sleep with a dagger under his pillow, not wanting to test fate or the lengths his impromptu suitors will go to harness control over his body and his kingdom.





	Killing Until the Score is Paid

**Author's Note:**

> [This is a work of fiction and does not accurately depict the people listed inside. Please do not share this on social media nor harass people about it, whether they are in the story or not. Please know that I do not condone murdering people or advocating this kind of sexual relationship with the real life people involved and am only using this as a character study. Thanks.]
> 
> I figured I've been too mean to both of them so now they can be mean to each other. A warning in advance, there's a scene in the story where, during sex, one party freezes up as the other continues. This is primarily because of shock and what follows is not non-consensual but it definitely isn't safe practice.

Most rulers, both democratic and aristocratic, come to be known by their young as heroes in their own right. Whether it’s because they’ve come by much land, reached an economically stable civilization, or were simply fair in name was irrelevant. What mattered was their judgement was not flawed. It sufficiently set Mitch apart from the crowd, when his name was well known in passing conversation at brothels or a spit-take thrown around the court. 

Many pleasure seekers come to kneel before his throne and none of them leave his kingdom without a hint of jasmine stuck in between their teeth and poison hemlock swirling in their gut. Come dinner, there would always be a flavourful toxin mixed in with the aged wine, a gram more than the lethal dose for those that could hold their liquor. Golden chalices don Mitch’s bedroom, on display with the many crowns and tiaras stolen off the heads of corpses he’d seduced.

Mitch doesn’t like to think of the mass grave outside by the stables and his lovely new jewelry as a glorified trophy case. He’d not been the instigator for their charming and seduction: the suitors came to him. To think they could prance into the kingdom of the Marners and leave with a piece of Mitch’s skin while paying no price was foolish--they were pigs and he treated them as such. If he’d got a kiss or an orgasm from them, well, that was a secret he took to the grave.

Jonathan was the first to comfort him come his mother and father’s untimely trip to the afterlife. Mitch had just been fitted with the ancestral crown and sworn his vows when the neighbouring chief and his son barged into the reception and spoke of courtship. They’d broke bread and talked, later, during one of many conversations he’d learned that the man’s son was pitifully boring. 

He took Johnathan to bed anyway and sent him off with leeches on his calves and hemlock root ground in the food the kitchen gifted. Word came back a week later that they’d met their untimely death mid-trek, where people suspected they’d strayed off the designated trails and helped themselves to a deadly meal.

The rush of ecstasy that followed suit was worth all the trouble. After all, it wasn’t like he’d been deflowered by the boy. Those that came after Jonathan, well, they weren’t so lucky. The grieving period was dense with so many smiling, rosy-cheek individuals he’d lost count. They’d all come with no intention of sitting with him by the fireplace as he stroked old portraits but rather, benefiting off of his grief while hoping if they fucked him good enough that he’d drop everything and propose.

He had one throne, gold with the craftsmanship of old mariners, their original ancestors, chiselled so deeply inside that to remove them would destroy the structure of the furniture. Those that married in would want him to leave behind his seaside paradise and sit pretty beside them like the palace whore. Never. Not when he’d sat on the brazen gold of his family and reigned. Looks didn’t translate into position and concubine, he was not.

Augustine comes from Omaveil where the wine flows like the tears of the peasants--them having a terrible economy that sucks integrity out of their own people. Still, Augustine brings out what looks like twelve servants just to trim his gaudy cloak as he leans forward and slurs out invasive promises to Mitch on a tangy, alcohol studded exhale.

Augustine doesn’t make it to the bedroom, he tries to grope Mitch in the hall and Mitch uses a garter to steal the oxygen from his lungs in a series of pulling and shoving. It’s only thanks to his deceitful little handmaidens and palace staff that he truly gets away with murder, and in doing so he kidnaps the twelve servants for his own just to be as bitchy as Augustine had implored.

Many more follow, Lucius, Dante, William, though the faces blur like oil in a puddle. Their personality is what determines their luck, their motive their fate. He doesn’t poison those that come to discuss trade and leave with a merry little step nor the sweet little things that don’t use him for sex and count the raindrops on his bedroom window. He can manage those even if their sex is lacklustre and not deserving of his time.

No one really steals the show for him. He sucks off grapes and crunches on them with his teeth and does so knowing he’ll have a line-up of men ready to sleep with him, knowing quite well that his reputation of malfeasance and deception overpowers any benefit they hope to gain. He also learns to sleep with a dagger under his pillow, not wanting to test fate or the lengths his impromptu suitors will go to harness control over both his body and his kingdom after Lucius almost gets away with strangling him one fateful evening.

All of it changes one afternoon as he’s tasting some of that Omaveil wine, although it’s not so much him tasting it and more having the taste testers wet their palettes knowing he’s made many enemies that continue to send him trinkets marinated in foreign poisons. Not expecting guests, he lounges sideways and twirls magnolias in his left hand, leaving the court to scatter and clean. It’s a perfect quiet that he lounges in like a nostalgic memory, unmoved by the clicks and clatters sounding around him, the centre of their solar system. 

Someone enters unannounced and the people around him straighten their backs almost immediately. Over his shoulder, Mitch sees an imposing figure walk down the aisle, clothed in bear furs and pelts of increasing variety. He stops for no one, not even the royal guards, and for a bruising second Mitch anticipates insurrection and rises to his feet. His people don’t hate him but they don’t grovel at his feet either--they could’ve very likely sent a man to do the dirty deed and leave the royal bloodline all dried up.

The emblem on the man’s shoulder speaks otherwise, as does his little entourage of similarly dressed men and women: all bloodstained and caked with dirt and mud from the fertile land. The head of their posey is still right in Mitch’s line of view, down on one knee as he manipulates his bangs to obscure his scarred-up face. Even with the disguise, his big-boned, shaped jaw and larger-than-average features set him apart from the typical slim, well-bred princes fathered nationwide.

“Lord Marner,” he addresses dutifully, voice shredded like gravel. “I cordially apologize for our arrival. Had I known we would be here so early, I would’ve come with a bigger offering to make up for it--”

“I hate to intervene but, you’ve yet to introduce yourself.” Mitch finished the last of his wine and placed the glass down by his feet. He’s not one to accept the frivolous introductions. If he’s sparing his time and energy for their cause, they damn well better make a good first impression.

The man watched Mitch’s Adam’s apple bob, mouth partially opened and betraying how seized his attention already was just from the sight of Mitch impaired by his own tipsiness. “Of course, I jest.” He cleared his throat. “Lord Marner, my name is Auston Matthews and I come bearing gifts.”

“Matthews.” Mitch wrapped the name around his tongue. “Can’t say I’m familiar with the family name.” It’s a risky move but he swipes his hand and demands his guards lower their weapons. The group of them cask suspicious looks his way but follow his orders to a tee, even when Auston’s look dictates that of a champion.

With more freedom, it’s easier for Auston to straighten his back and stand at full height, the light catching in his fringes and turning his ebony hair gold. He advances one step closer. “My family comes from nothing,” he says, “I worked to secure my place on the throne.”

It sounds like a partial threat, not sugar coated with grace or fantasy. “Do enlighten me,” Mitch drawls, studying how the push and pull affects the darkness inside the other man’s eyes. “I always love a good story.”

“I’d hate to scare you away so soon,” Auston says, “first, let me present you with a little peace offering, to give you a taste of what I own.” From behind him, a little shindig is orchestrated. A younger, fair-haired man strides forth with a simple box in hand, sealed shut and polished until the wooden horses carved on the side glimmer in the low light.

The man stands beside Auston and cranks it open, enough to reveal the innards. Seated deep in the dark red, plush cushioning is a sparkling figure enshrined in bronze. It’s easy to identify as a necklace from the acrylic cabochons clinging to the main pendant. The filigrees flanking it are anything but simple and they frame the glass pearls so beautifully.

It’s so stupidly pointless and over exaggerated but its claims Mitch’s vision all the same. He’s barely conscious enough of his predicament to gesture the bearer closer, until the boy is in front of him and the prize is dangled in front of his eyes. Automatically, he takes it, watches how it spins as it’s elevated, and slips his head through the loop.

“You look so charming,” Auston says, cheeks puffed out and cracking his warpaint. “It suits you well.” There’s thinly veiled interest there and it makes Mitch cock his head up, displaying more of his neck for Auston to dissect. He wants to be admired, even if it makes him come off as entitled. His reputation has gone to sod already.

“Thank you,” Mitch says, feeling up the encrusted gems and rhinestones. He sits up straight soon after, knowing they’re at the centrepiece of the eyes and ears of the court. “Although, you still haven’t expressed why you’ve come here, unless your idea of a grand entrance is seducing the neighbouring countries.”

“I wish to feast with you and discuss a possible partnership, is all.” He did a little bow. “I’ve heard tales of your rule from my country. To meet you face to face is all I ask, though dinner would be nice too.” His eyes betray a hunger for something else. Mitch knows he’ll be acting on it later but appearances are important.

“Well,” Mitch rubbed his chin, “I have no commitments but we were not expecting company. The palace kitchens will surely riot but,” he sneers, “but I think we can work something out.”

 

There are many safety precautions to take when it comes to overseas admirers, the first being to not accept a drink or prize that hasn’t touched over hands or tongues first. The other is to not open his bed to a soul that has sour intentions without stabbing them in the back first. Auston won’t be an exception and the second he offers Mitch’s kitchens a grand feast he sneaks a word in with the cooks to not so much as lick a drop of sauce trailing off the meat. 

Auston is good company and nothing more. That isn’t to degrade him to being bland because he isn’t. It’s just that their interests differ far too great to have a deep conversation. Auston is the type to skin rabbits for a living, meanwhile, Mitch is more concerned with putting on a clean face as to best lure the materialistic wolves to the grave. They have a mutual respect that extends to all their interactions but he can tell it’s simply the appetizer to their relationship. What’s to happen will be more carnal and promising than a few lousy words.

He’s been hungry ever since Auston set foot on his soil but it becomes difficult to salvage his dignity when Auston pulls him away from the councilmen and clergy to deposit a few heated words in Mitch’s ear, a suave introduction to the dance they’re ready to partake in. It’d be inappropriate to drop tradition and entertain Auston’s needs but the jewels on his neck are beginning to sear into his skin. He’s only human after all.

He leaves his company to settle in their respective rooms, an extension of his generosity for the visit when he could’ve left them to bargain in a tavern or rickety inn he’s sure would be submerged in mud. Before he presents himself though, he must bathe. His collection of foreign soaps and body lotions are all splayed on his flesh as he sinks into a heated basin, steam wafting in sheets around his figure.

The tub is spacious enough to let him plunge in water up to the nape of his neck. All the tension wound up his body releases itself with the steam and it’s as if all the grit on his body is scraped clean. Time is reset and he’s allowed to recharge his energy as it ebbs and flows in between his toes.

He takes full advantage of the water’s heat until it’s dulled to a lukewarm temperature. Then, without explanation, he calls on a servant and demands they bring Auston to him. He knows the other ruler will be settling in for the evening and not expecting company, which is exactly why he chooses that moment. He wants Auston’s mind to be on his evening with not a thought left to imagine what Mitch will surprise him with.

Playing along isn’t his cup of tea, he wants to be in control of the game. Auston was two steps ahead of him, having a thing or two about his methods and not taking the wine Mitch tried to force on him. It was both a nuisance and also a challenge. Mitch is determined to win, one way or another, and he’s not underneath using his body as leverage.

Auston’s entrance lacks the grandiose from the first time, with only the slam of a door behind him to trumpet his arrival. And what an entrance is it, when the first thing his eyes lay on is the shapely body in front of him, curved in all the right places and glistening with a touch of water. Mitch doesn’t see but he hears the sharp intake of breath and that alone confirms he’s got Auston tangled in his web.

When he does look over, surprisingly, Auston is attempting to maintain a facade of privacy. He’s strolled over to one of the oaken shelves where a dozen crowns sit, although Mitch can see his hand is clenched so tightly the veins are popping. It makes pleasure course between his legs; the chastity ironically turning him on more than a full-on pursuit. 

“A nice collection of crowns, I see.” Auston’s trying to inspect the rows of rival and foreign crowns without drawing much attention to how he looks over the shoulder, trying not to miss an inch of skin as its displayed.

Mitch hums, lifting his shin up to scrub underneath his knee. “They’re only decoration.” 

“Oh, I know exactly what they are. We have much in common already, stripping the unworthy of their dainty titles and jewels, keeping them for yourself. Your--” Mitch interrupts his little spiel, standing up and out of the basin as the water drains down his skin. Auston’s mouth doesn’t get the opportunity to close, but he has the sense to lock the door shut behind him and keep the image to himself.

Mitch dons the necklace with pride, the gems inside indistinguishable because of the collage of orange, red, and pink streaked up his body from the nearby fire. They make the pearls glimmer like rubies and refract light all across his collarbone. He’s sure he looks stunning because Auston’s look has hardened into determination.

Stepping out of the tub is the only mark of caution because Auston is on him in seconds, shepherding him in the direction of the bed. Auston’s good graces die with the illusion of his innocence, disparity and shameless lust cloaking him like a veil. Mitch, on the other hand, is perfectly in control and out of it at the same time. The current of the river pushes him downstream like a lilypad, threatening to topple him.

They hit the bed as a unit, Auston covering Mitch like a woolly blanket. His body traps the heat between them. Mitch is laughing to himself, soggy hair spread around him like a halo as his limbs flail in every direction. He knows he looks like an angel and that baring himself gives Auston more than enough room to work with. As such, it’s not Auston’s lips that caress Mitch’s throat but his teeth. It nips at the skin bunched around Mitch’s collarbone with a ferocity Mitch expected from a warrior of his ilk. 

He revels in the attention wholeheartedly, understanding how it makes him roll his hips to glide along Auston’s thigh. He’s hard, already leaking. It does not mean he’s sated though. The second Auston gets distracted by the slide of the satin underneath them, Mitch becomes insatiable with a dash of selfish turning his movements bitter. He demands Auston’s world becomes him or else he will kick Auston, whether he’s inside or out of Mitch, until Auston folds and flees with his tail in between his legs.

He’s already prepped himself with oil and bathwater, the intrusion of the fingers doesn’t matter although he’s happy the man’s first thought isn’t about justifying his own pleasure. Mitch is scrunched up on his sheets, waiting out the other man’s endurance and the grind to get the other man’s cock inside of him to satisfy the burning itch deep inside. He wanted to be sated without having to sit back and adorn the helpless look as he worked himself over again and again.

Still, even the initial penetration is somewhat lacking. Once he’s adjusted to the size it’s a matter of push and shove, Auston circling his hips to try and touch the sweet spot deep inside of Mitch. It’s not bad, but he’s never had a long attention span either. When Auston’s brutish thrusting becomes an afterthought, it’s time to bring out the dagger and end the exchange. He’s close enough that a few strokes would do him over anyway, he's never needed a warm body.

Auston’s head is tossed back, revelling in the blissful eclipse of light going on behind his eyelids. He doesn’t even notice Mitch’s arms lying flat above his head, one twisting the shaft of the dagger under the pillow. Mitch waits until he’s sure Auston has found a rhythm that works for him until he pulls it out, angles his elbow, and strikes.

A hand stretches out and grabs Mitch’s elbow. Its stopped his hand in motion where it’s nearly sliced Auston’s jugular. Above them, Auston leers down, stopped mid-thrust. Mitch can’t even so much as wheeze, all functions in his body have stopped.

Auston’s mouth splits in a wide smirk, showing off a collection of stained teeth. “How cute,” is all he says. He proceeds to thrust in twice as hard, folding up Mitch’s body and forcing him to shriek as his body seizes up.

“Is this how you kill off the competition? Pitiful.” The sex gets more violent, with Mitch inadvertently dropping the dagger because he’s lost all control to the sensations. All the tension he’d thrown out comes back, scrunching his neck as his shoulder ride up to follow the undertow of the energy.

Auston takes no prisoners now that he’s assumed full control and Mitch is simply along for the ride. His legs are thrown over Auston’s stocky shoulders, locked behind Auston’s back where he can feel the indent of the spine sticking out. The new position means his pelvis has been completely lifted off the bed, composure wrestled straight out of his mouth like a metal bit.

He shouldn’t be as turned on as he is but watching Auston conquer him with a dagger sitting inches from their copulation arouses him. The possibility of retribution, of knowing Mitch has a weapon at hand but is too overcome with pleasure to use it, is powerful. It’s like a drug. Mitch’s mouth falls open and drool leaks out the side--it should be disgusting but Auston doesn’t treat it as such. If anything, seeing Mitch so debauched is equally fervent for him.

It’s the first time Mitch climax with a warm body overtop him and it’s only achieved when Auston takes all the power he has and forfeits it. He switches their positions, puttting Mitch on top with the express purpose of having Mitch ride him. Mitch only gets to grind down once before his back is pulled taut and he’s too highly strung from his orgasm to do anything other than shriek. His squeezing interrupts Auston’s rhythm and Mitch feels the man’s cock swell and release. 

He should be mortified--the slide is made so much easier now that he’s slick with come--but reaching the end was never more triumphant. He waits until Auston’s finished being wrung clean of come and then collapses on him like a dying flag. Finally, he’s on top and in power; in between Auston’s legs and vibrating like a lightning bug.

The dagger, rusty and bloodstained, falls off the bed with a clank. Both of them hear it but neither of them reacts. Mitch is too focused on not letting his eyelids fall shut, recognizing the threat and what it stands for but too tired to make an effort to move. He’s as bare as a babe, ready to be cut up and killed and Auston just needs to reach over and make it happen.

It puts them in what should be an uncomfortable position that they’re not willing to tackle. Mitch is extinguished like a fire with a bucket full a sand thrown on it. He’s not even conscious of the action, just the cushion of the bed and the man underneath him as he leans forward and his reality bleeds out.

When morning comes, Mitch’s heart's still beating and blood is coursing through his hands. Dried come streaks his stomach and his ass is sore, probably still gaping because of Auston’s roughness. Auston’s snoring underneath him and the man’s chest is so big his heart must be thumping twice as fast as the average human’s. 

The dagger is still littering the carpet and if Mitch backs up two paces he can swipe it.

It’d make sense to cover his tracks: Auston’s kingdom is small and his enemies will become Mitch's allies. No one will know (beyond his servants) how Auston pounded and stole his modesty. It’s a secret that will die in a mass grave, a mile out from the castle where the cows graze.

But, something compels him otherwise. He’s persuaded enough to let sleep reign supreme and tug him down, where he’ll sprawl out on Auston’s wide chest and let the other man’s heartbeat lull him into a deep slumber.

Typically, it's only sweethearts and dreary signers that leave his kingdom alive but he’d make an exception for a bastard prince, just this once. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me @cursivecherrypicking on tumblr!


End file.
